


No Laughing Matter

by Evil Crutchie (PawPunk)



Series: Kinktober 2019 [23]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Collars, Day 23, Dom/sub, Figuratively, Hostage Situations, Kinktober, M/M, Mafia AU, Sub! Jack, implied sex, kinkshaming, so much kinkshaming, spot's a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 16:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawPunk/pseuds/Evil%20Crutchie
Summary: Jack tries to negotiate with the most feared mob boss in New York while covered in hickies and wearing a collar.





	No Laughing Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vexatious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexatious/gifts).

> Trigger warnings: as this is a mafia au, there are threats of murder. There's also kinkshaming, and Spot is a dick so if he's ur fave do urself a favour and don't read me make him an asshole for no reason

“What are you doing here, Kelly?” the thug asked. He pounded his shovel against his open palm, but Jack didn’t flinch.

“I’m here to talk to Mr. Conlon,” he said. “Tell him I’m willin’ to give Myron back, but only if he’ll talk to me.”

The thug glared at him. “Spot ain’t seeing nobody,” he growled.

“Oh,” Jack shrugged. “Well then tell him we’s tossing his best enforcer into the Atlantic.”

“Fine, I’ll tell him you’re coming.”

A few hours later, Jack Kelly was walking into the office of the most feared man in Brooklyn. Spot was shorter than Jack, and sitting down, but still managed to loom over him. “You’re here about the hostages?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Jack said. 

“Sit down,” Spot said, gesturing at the wooden chair across his desk from his own plush armchair.

Jack looked at the hard surface. “No thanks,” he said. 

"You want me to make him sit, boss?” the thug said. 

“No, Graves. Leave us alone, I can handle this idiot,” Spot said, waving him off. 

“But I-”

“Leave.” Graves turned and left, pouting like a puppy being told off. Spot looked at Jack. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine standing up, really.” It may have seemed like a power play, and maybe it partially was. Mostly, though, it hurt to sit down. Crutchie had not been gentle with him the night before, and Jack hadn’t wanted him to be. 

Spot scowled. “I understand you want Dasilva back. If you intend to receive him with his head still attached, I suggest you treat me with a little more respect.”

Jack swallowed. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said calmly. “I understand you want Myron back, too. It seems we have an easy solution to both our problems.”

“Except Dasilva is a lot more valuable to you than Myron is to me. Why should I accept this little bargain?”

Jack pushed up his sleeves, a little nervous habit of his. He knew- he knew! That Spot cared about Myron. He was part of his damn inner circle! But he couldn’t just call out the lie, or he’d be dead for sure. “I think if you-”

“Damn, Kelly, who soaked you?” Spot interrupted.

Jack blinked. “Nobody soaked me. I am un-soakable. I am waterproof,” he snapped. “You callin’ me a wimp?”

“I’m sayin’, you got bruises all over your wrists.” Jack looked down and winced at Crutchie’s fingerprint marks on his arms. He quickly rolled down his sleeves. 

“Fine. Maybe I got soaked, a little, before I beat the guy’s ass. But it’s not relevant.” Spot snickered. “Like I was saying, Dasilva is only one of my boys. Even folks who aren’t enforcers can do a lot of damage on my side, and your side has a limited number of actual fighters. So it’s better off for you to trade and get it over with.”

“Or you could be plannin’ to kill Myron, since you got less on the line.” Spot stared him down. “How do I know you ain’t already killed him?”

“Because we care about Dasilva,” Jack snapped. “You can trust me on this, he’s my friend and I wouldn’t kill one of your men if I thought it would put him in danger.” He leaned in, staring Spot right in the eyes. “But if you hurt Al, I won’t hesitate to get rid of Myron.” 

For a moment, Spot looked genuinely intimidated. Then he burst out laughing. “Are you wearing a dog’s collar? Do you seriously think that makes you look cool?”

Jack yanked up his shirt to cover his collar. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The shirt quickly came loose, showing the bulky leather collar hidden underneath. And the tag that marked him as Crutchie’s property. He held the shirt up again, but not before Spot noticed.

“Oh my G-d.” His eyes went wide before he burst into even louder laughter. “I don’t believe it! Jack Kelly, leader of the Bad News Boys, is a _fucking masochist!_” Jack snarled, his face turning bright red. “Holy shit. This is better than a hostage.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jack waited for Spot to stop laughing. 

“That’s why you didn’t sit down, right? ‘Cause your precious little boyfriend spanked you? I knew it,” Spot said as he read Jack’s face. He swallowed back his laughter and looked Jack in the eyes. “You know, Kelly? I was having a bad day, and this made it so, so much better.”

“Glad to help,” Jack deadpanned.

“I’ll give you Dasilva for Myron. Meet on the Brooklyn Bridge at midnight tomorrow.”

Jack started. “Wait, really?”

“Yep. I figured since I have blackmail on you, it evens out.” Spot stood up and shook Jack’s hand. “Thanks for the help!”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jack said. He hurried out of the office, halfway between elated and deeply embarrassed. 

Albert was returned safe and sound, thank G-d. So was Myron, but Jack didn’t give a shit about him. As Al celebrated his return, Jack climbed up to his penthouse and collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to take off his clothes or shower.

“Long day, huh?” Crutchie asked.

“Yeah. You shouldn’t have waited up for me.” 

“I wanted to. You know. In case something happened.” 

Jack rolled over and hugged Crutchie. “You’re too good.” 

“Nope. Now get changed or you’ll wake up sore.” Jack protested as he sat up, but obeyed. He changed into his pajamas, finally removing his collar.

“Did you wear that to get Albert?” Crutchie laughed.

“Yeah. All day. You told me to,” Jack said. He set the collar on the nightstand and rubbed his neck. 

“Damn. I assumed you’d take it off for important things,” Crutchie said. He patted the bed, and Jack climbed in next to him. Crutchie buried his head in his chest.

“What’s more important than you?” Jack asked. 

Crutchie laughed, and kissed him. “I love you, darling. Sleep well.”

“I love you too.” Jack turned off the light and hugged Crutchie, drifting off to sleep in his arms. 


End file.
